No one could say when the town started coming apart. First the mill cut shifts. Then pay. Bread got a little higher every month until people stopped pretending not to notice. Jobs vanished quietly; older workers still kept showing up… Continue Reading
Cold off the river. Not winter, not yet. Close enough, though. The field had been chewed up, grass flattened where the trucks turned, green gone dark like a bruise. Frost clung only where nothing had touched it, a neat grid… Continue Reading
Every time my grandpa, my mother’s father, visited us he always brought a crate of fruits or vegetables, whatever he just harvested. I remember I was in second grade when he came by with the crate and asked how I… Continue Reading